When Sherlock Visited Santa's Grotto
by rupzydaisy
Summary: Carl Powers? No, Sherlock started long before that... Young Sherlock was investigating an impossible man. A man who could break into houses without leaving a trace and defy the laws of physics and time. Sherlock was going to find out the truth. Two Shot.
1. Chapter One

_The festive season is infectious... no cure unfortunately with the side effect of churning out christmassy themed fics. So, this is a two shot. Got the idea in the middle of shoving toast into my mouth this morning (I was not late!) and the signs on the buses. (They are always late) _

_Sherlock Holmes (about 6?) visits Santa's Grotto... _

_Carl Powers?... Sherlock started a lot earlier than that incident..._

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They were in the middle of the shopping centre, which had been decorated for the festive season. Sherlock had sulked most of the way, eyes blinking and wheeling widely as he took in the crowds, the lights and decorations. It was too loud and noisy and he hated it. His older brother was dealing with the trip slightly better; he was silent and focused on avoiding the shoppers with large bags crammed with presents. All the while making sure that his little brother wasn't going to wander off or make an inappropriate comment on someone's life, however glaringly obvious it may be.

'_Santa's Grotto'_, was lit up in large lights and a large red tent had been set up in between the escalators on the fifth floor to attract even more crowds. Mycroft stood while Sherlock slumped on a chair in the centre while Mrs Holmes stood in the queue, chatting to a woman with a bright green coat.

"Sherlock." Mycroft called.

"Mmmmm." The younger boy replied as he doodled a structure of hydrocarbons on a colouring sheet with a Santa holding a large sack of presents outlined on it.

"Promise you won't do anything silly today." Mycroft ordered.

Sherlock looked up at him and laughed, "Silly?"

"You know what I mean."

Sherlock giggled as he drew another bunch of hydrocarbons, "Nothing silly." He replied as his mother waved at both of them. They waved back as the woman in the green coat nodded and pointed to a little boy with curly blonde hair and chocolate smeared across his mouth who sat nearby and scribbled over his colour in sheet haphazardly with a chunky red crayon.

"Just, play along." Mycroft said quietly as Sherlock looked up at him. "You don't want to upset Mummy now. She's happy, she likes Christmas."

Sherlock looked back at his mother who was laughing and showing the woman something in one of the bags of shopping she held in her arms. The other woman smiled widely back and nodded enthusiastically.

"Fine Mycroft." Sherlock replied, disinterested with the conversation.

A few minutes later, a man dressed up in ridiculously bright clothing, red velvet shirt and green tights walked over to them with a wide smile plastered over his face.

"Are you ready to see Santa?" He asked enthusiastically, Sherlock pulled a face before abandoning his paper and stood up.

"Yes. I want to see Santa!" He cried happily and the man was almost bowled over, the little child rivalling the fake enthusiasm in his voice.

But Sherlock wasn't lying, not completely; he was conducting an investigation and so dutifully followed the _elf_ towards the entrance of the tent. This was also the reason why he was only mildly sulking, rather than protesting furiously when his mother announced the trip over breakfast. Mycroft was intrigued by his brother's behaviour and so followed, a warm smile towards the elf who looked as though he was going to enforce the 'one child at a time' rule.

Sherlock waited at the entrance of the tent as the elf went to check if Santa was ready to see him. For the past few years he had been trying to solve this puzzle, and every time he thought he had cracked it, his brother pointed out another possible explanation or potential excuse. And because Christmas came round once a year, the case had been postponed; yet, Sherlock felt that this year he would find out the truth.

The excuses last year for the impossible man had been, 'a technologically advanced sleigh using most probably rocket power', and for the army of elves, his brother had retorted with the potential, 'they may not be elves, after all for these few months of the year, packing and wrapping presents can be a part time job for many who need the extra money to buy such expensive, wasteful and more often than not, useless presents.'

Yet, for Sherlock, he was enthralled by the stories that this seemingly average man, while overweight and possibly clumsy could fit down a chimney. Who could, whilst carrying a large sack of presents, slip into bedrooms and living rooms and deliver presents without waking up any inhabitants. It was ridiculous. Sherlock was an extremely light sleeper, whenever he did manage to fall asleep, and he would know if a stranger had been in his room.

The most impossible thing was that _Santa _could deliver presents to every single house in the world, in the same night. Mycroft had said that he had forgotten to subtract the _naughty children_, but according to several reports, the impossible man handed out a lump of coal. Besides, he had never heard of anyone not receiving a present, all the children in his class babbled on about their presents during the first week back.

Also, he could not understand how the man entered and exited the house without leaving a trace. No broken windows, no signs of forced entry on the doors. His room had been left untouched, nothing disturbed, nothing taken. So Sherlock stood in front of his brother as the elf pushed the tent material to the side and let them in. He smiled a little as he knew he was about to eliminate the impossible and find out the real explanation behind this impossible man.

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_Next chapter will be up before christmas :D _

_Review if you can :D _


	2. Chapter Two

_Ah, this is a little bit longer than the last chapter, but hey, I had fun writing it :D Oh a six-ish old Sherlock...the havoc! Tried to reverse extrapolate the cannon character...(been wating for DW.. days left!) and attempted to stick to cannon. However with the ending of The Study In Pink... both Holmes boys seemed also to be Mummy's boys... couldn't help the ending... perhaps fluff... but bite me if you dare... _

_Enjoy :D _

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Sherlock walked past the _elf_ and into the tent. Inside the light was dimmer and the tent was cosy and Christmas looking, complete with its own tree which had been decorated to within an inch of its life. There was tinsel scattered over the sides of the tent, draped over the table and little lights which were strung up all over the tent flickered brightly. A large man sat on an equally large chair which was of red velvet and what looked like gold but was plastic upon closer inspection. Mycroft stood by the entrance, happy to let his little brother meet Santa Claus but a little wary. The wariness came with experience and it was almost a warning in the back of his mind.

"Ho, ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas." The man in the red and white suit boomed. As Sherlock scrutinised his appearance he noticed that Santa's boots were made of cheap plastic and were not well made, especially to be trudging through snow which was knee high. "Well hello there young man." He greeted. Sherlock noted that he had no trace of an Icelandic accent.

"Hello." Sherlock replied, focusing on the man's hands which were white with the cold, Reynaud's phenomena possibly. There was a light dusting of snow outside but the man should have adapted to the harsh Arctic environment from _apparently _an eternity of living there. He shouldn't be cold, not indoors.

"Well don't be shy. Come closer so I can see if you've been naughty or good this year." The man boomed and then laughed a deep throaty chuckle.

Sherlock stepped forwards. "Am I on the good list?" Sherlock asked curiously. _Santa _scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Let me check." The man said and he reached behind his chair to pull out a little piece of paper. "And what's your name young man?" He asked in his deep voice. Sherlock frowned, according to what he had heard; Santa Claus knew all children's names. Although, he supposed, perhaps he hadn't had time to check over them recently since it was close to the big day.

"Sherlock Holmes." The young boy replied as he brushed back his hair which had flopped down into his face.

"Ah, yes. I see now." _Santa_ replied thoughtfully, peering over the top of the list. "Hmm, you young man are on the good list." He declared after a short paused and Sherlock leaned forwards inquisitively.

"Do I get my present now?" Sherlock asked excitedly.

"Yes. Come here and I'll just get it." Santa replied as he hoisted himself up of the chair and waddled around to pick up a large beige sack from behind. He sat back down again with a muffled thump and Sherlock edged closer. Santa reached out and grabbed Sherlock under his arms and pulled him up, setting him across his legs. Sherlock pulled a face which only his brother saw and Mycroft replied by mouthing _'you promised'. _Sherlock huffed silently and forced himself to sit still.

"Now what do we have in here for the young Mr Holmes?" Santa asked and as Sherlock leaned forwards to look into the sack he caught a whiff of alcohol. He leaned closer and caught sight of a bottle half full of brown liquid, _whiskey_. The boy frowned as the evidence was mounting up. Drinking and driving, they were not indicators of any responsible adult. And there was no musty smell of animals. _Ah, yes, reindeer and the sleigh. _He remembered.

"Santa, are there only reindeer where you live?" Sherlock asked politely as the man rummaged around in the sack of presents. He caught his brother frowning at him, confused as to why Sherlock was asking an odd question.

"No. There's lots of animals that live next door to me. There's polar bears and penguins too." Santa smile was partly shrouded by the white beard. Which when Sherlock examined closer was fake, and he realised that the man was wearing a wig. He blinked twice but then decided to let it pass, many old people were prone to hair loss and in accordance to his image, Santa Claus would have to look the part.

"Really?" Sherlock asked dubiously. _Penguins live in Antarctic, the South Pole._ He glared at Mycroft who stared back, reminding him of his promise; to not do anything silly. Well, he had promised. "Santa, penguins live at the South Pole, not the North Pole." The little boy stated eloquently.

Santa stared at Sherlock, and then blinked twice; the action was magnified by the thick lenses in the glasses which he wore. Yet Sherlock noticed that the man squinted behind them, as though they impaired his vision, which would mean that he did not need glasses. How someone with decent vision could navigate with them he could not fathom.

Sherlock's hypothesis was increasingly gathering up supportive evidence, and the final piece was added when Sherlock enquired about how the man travelled the world in a single night.

"On my sleigh of course. And if you listen carefully at night, you might hear the reindeers' hoofs and the jingling bells." Sherlock frowned but nevertheless pressed for more information.

"How does your sleigh work Santa?" Mycroft was silently glaring at his younger brother who remained impassive as his eyes flicked back to the man in the red and white coat.

"By the magic of Christmas!" He announced and his laugh boomed loudly. Sherlock squirmed until the Santa let him go and the child hopped down onto the floor and adjusted his coat.

"There is no such man as Santa Claus and you are an imposter or at worse, a very bad impressionist." Sherlock stated. The _Santa _was doing his best impression as a goldfish with his mouth wide open at the young boy's articulate vocabulary. Said little boy turned towards his brother. "You lied Mycroft." Sherlock scowled and then walked out of the room. The elf outside watched the little boy walk out of the tent and then stared in confusion before turning round and sticking his head in.

Sherlock noted that Mycroft was frowning, and smirked back at him. He had also deducted why Mycroft was frowning. Because the younger Holmes boy had figured out the truth about Santa Claus a year before his older brother. This explained the excuses Mycroft had come up with for said impossible man. And Sherlock had beaten him by eliminating the impossible. The fact was, was that Santa Claus was not real.

"Next one then Dave?" The elf asked and watched as an older boy walked up to Dave and plucked the present out of his hands and followed his little brother out of the tent.

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Sherlock walked up to his mother who looked down and smiled at him. "Ah, you saw Santa already? Did you get your present?" Mrs Holmes asked happily as the other woman collect her chocolate smeared child and towed him into the tent.

"What? Oh."Sherlock said looked backwards at his brother. Mycroft pushed Sherlock's present into his back and Sherlock caught hold of it before producing it to his mother who smiled at the neatly wrapped gift.

"You can put it under the tree when we get home." She told him. Sherlock nodded and then as his mother bent down to pick up her bags of shopping he thrusted the present up at Mycroft's face. Mycroft scowled back.

"It's your present." He replied, pushing the gift back at Sherlock.

"I don't want it." Sherlock protested seriously, shoving it back.

"You hold it." Mycroft ordered, stepping backwards.

"I don't want the childish book. Yours are much better."

Mycroft sighed once more, this time for longer amount of time due to the fact he was completely and utterly exasperated, before dropping the book into his carrier bag. His mother held out her spare hand for Sherlock to take. The younger boy stepped over to take hold of it.

"Mummy, Mycroft said that you like Christmas. Why?" Mycroft sighed before walking in step at his mother's side. _Why?_ It was Sherlock's favourite question, from the reason of the sky being blue – (scattered light particles) to anything else which popped into his mind under that unruly mound of curly black locks.

But both brothers listened carefully as his mother explained to the little investigator why she loved Christmas as they walked back to the car as it began to snow once more, lightly spreading across the roads and the pavements, making sure it was going to be a white Christmas that year.

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_Thank you to the ones who reviewed, alerted to read this and favorited... :D _

_Have a fun festive couple of days and merry Christmas to all and to all a good night..._ ; )


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